


Old Wives' Tale

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 11:52:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Mulder has an idea...





	Old Wives' Tale

She’s sideways on the couch, knees up under a dusky pink throw, head and neck cushioned in her new pale grey triangle pillow. She’s balancing a mug of tea on the peak of her swollen belly. A smile stretches across her now fuller face. Her hair his pulled back in a semblance of the pony tails she used to wear half a life ago. He sees that brave young woman even now. Perhaps even more often, with her softer figure and her daily battle to adjust to a new regime. Before, they were looking for truth in dangerous places. Now, the truth is in her and the hazards are presented only by her age and their joint trepidation of what is to come. But tonight, she is muted and mellow, watercolour-soft and he sits at her feet.

“What have you got there, Mulder?”

“Pull up your top, Scully,” he says, taking her tea and folding back the throw.

She frowns but it’s her pretend one. She does as she’s asked and reveals the expanse of skin that protects their unborn child. Silvery lines bracket the swell, marks of time and experience. There’s a shape pushing up, maybe a foot or an elbow. He watches it flex and bend. She places a hand over it and it calms in an instant.

“Lie back.” He sits her feet across his lap and dangles the chain above her belly.

“Are you kidding me, Mulder? A ring on a chain? To tell the gender?”

“Don’t dismiss it, Scully. This is a highly accurate method.”

“Well, if you look in my tea mug, you’ll see that I’m due to be swept off my feet by a rich and handsome stranger, but I don’t see anybody like that here.” She indulges him for a moment and they both watch the ring swing side to side and round and round. “So, what’s your prediction?”

He grins. “One of each?”

Her foot knocks his hand away and the chain falls to the floor and the ring skitters across the rug. He picks it up.

“Where did you get it? I’ve never seen that ring before, Mulder.”

“It was my mother’s mother’s wedding band.” Sitting back down, he studies it, marked by time and experience, tiny scarring in the yellow metal. He takes a deep breath and turns to her. “Will you marry me, Scully?”

Her hand covers his. They both tremble. Time disappears.

“Yes,” she says, pulling their joint hands onto her belly. “A thousand times yes.”

He rests his head between her breasts and her belly, listening to the churn of life in her womb. “I’m not that rich, Scully,” he says, seeking her eyes. “But I am dark and I’m very strange.”

Her giggle has always been the same. “Well, I know that.”


End file.
